


trouble's gonna follow (where i go)

by carissima



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, M/M, Wishbabies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19333963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carissima/pseuds/carissima
Summary: The first thing Travis learns about Nolan is that he can’t tie a fucking tie.





	trouble's gonna follow (where i go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine) in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> a huge thanks to bee for the beta :)
> 
> hey jess, sorry it's always me fulfilling your prompts but i hope you like it!

**October 2017**

The first thing Travis learns about Nolan is that he can’t tie a fucking tie. The second thing he learns is Patty is pretty laid back. It takes him a whole hour of non-stop chirping to make Patty’s cheeks flush rosy red, another half hour before his hands curl into fists and ten minutes more before Patty’s glaring at him, telling him to shut up through gritted teeth.

Travis leans back against the couch, picks up the controls that Patty’s just thrown down in his general direction, and grins as he focuses on the screen.

“You talk too much,” is what Patty finally says.

Travis checks the clock on the wall to his left. Twenty minutes, he notes. It’s useful, he finds, to figure out the limits of his teammates.

“You don’t talk enough,” is what he says back cheerfully.

It doesn’t get a laugh and Travis is surprised by how disappointed he feels about that. But he shoots Patty a sneaky look and finds him smiling - just a little twist of his lips, but it’s definitely a smile - and Travis’ eyes light up.

Competition is in his nature. He’ll win Patty over eventually, or maybe die trying.

*

**April 2019**

Travis rolls over with a groan, flinging an arm over his eyes. It’s way too bright, he’s far too hungover and hockey’s over for another year.

And it’s only April.

Yawning, he rolls over and buries his head under a pillow. He’ll just sleep a bit longer, he thinks fuzzily.

A loud, high-pitched scream has him shooting up out of bed, scrambling to get the covers off and almost braining himself on his nightstand. What the fuck, he thinks, racing out of his bedroom. The sound is coming from outside, he realizes, flinging open his front door and completely forgetting that he’s only wearing a pair of neon green boxers.

He pokes his head out far enough to see that the hallway is empty. Grabbing a shirt, he takes a step forward. His foot nudges against something and he looks down.

Oh, he thinks dazedly. That’s where the noise is coming from.

There’s a baby staring up at him, mid-cry like the very sight of Travis has startled them into silence.

“I know the feeling, bud,” Travis says, because that’s a wish baby. There’s a wish baby on his doorstep and his brain might not be functioning all that well this morning but he knows what a fucking wish baby is.

He’s still staring at the baby, somewhat horrified, when Patty walks into his apartment with a scowl and the worst bed-hair Travis has ever seen.

“What the fuck am I doing here,” Patty grumbles, heading straight for the kitchen and cursing when he sees the coffee pot is empty. “Where the hell is the coffee, bro? What the fuck?”

“Mind your language,” Travis hisses because apparently that’s his life now.

Patty laughs, which Travis is mildly outraged by because getting a laugh out of him, even after two years, is almost impossible and now he’s laughing at Travis’ life choices, except when he finally looks up from the baby, he realizes that Patty’s making coffee in the kitchen like a fucking boss because Travis really needs some caffeine. But also, he hasn’t noticed the baby in Travis’ arms.

“Dude,” Travis says flatly. “Dude!”

“You’re almost out of milk,” Patty says, and then dumps half a carton in his own cup.

“Well sure, now I am,” Travis mutters.

Then Patty turns around and freezes, mid-sip.

It’s fucking hilarious and Travis can’t even appreciate it because he’s holding a baby.

“Uh,” Patty says dumbly. “Why are you holding a baby?”

“Because it’s the only thing that stopped him crying,” Travis says. It’s definitely a him. He took a peek and then had a brief panic attack about changing diapers. Then he called Patty, yelled at him to get upstairs now and accidentally threw his phone halfway across the room in surprise when the baby hiccupped loudly.

“Right,” Patty says slowly. He puts his coffee down and stares at Travis, all blank-faced and solemn. “Bro. Why is there a baby in your apartment?”

“Wishbaby,” he says, looking down at the baby because he knows his cheeks are reddening, he can feel the heat of the blush on his skin. It’s clearly a mistake, since he’s not stupid enough to wish for a baby when he’s just turned 22. He’s not even in a relationship. Hasn’t been for over a year. He doesn’t need Patty to point out that he can barely look after himself, let alone a baby. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he’s not actually that much of an idiot. “It’s obviously a mistake,” he says firmly, his hands gentle and steady as he keeps staring at the baby. He should probably look away, maybe check on whatever inscrutable expression Patty’s got going on right now.

He doesn’t look away.

“It’s obviously a mistake,” he says. The baby’s eyelashes flutter, like maybe he’s thinking of waking up and Travis holds his breath. His eyes stay shut, though his lips purse together a few times and Travis hopes there’s some kind of milk in a bottle somewhere in the basket. He didn’t check when he picked the baby up in a panic, desperate for the crying to stop and terrified he was going to drop him. “Do these things come with a receipt or something?”

Patty crouches down in front of him, looking as faintly incredulous as Patty can probably manage with his stupid expressionless face. His eyebrows are a little higher than usual at least. “Pretty sure they don’t,” Patty says. His gaze drops to the baby. “Oh wow.”

“What?” Travis looks down at the baby in alarm but he’s still sleeping, his mouth making a tiny ‘o’ shape that looks pretty fucking adorable.

“He uh, has your eyebrows,” Patty says like the asshole he is.

Travis peers a little closer at the baby, scrunching his nose a little. “The fuck?” he whispers. “No he doesn’t.”

Except that now that he’s really looking at the baby, like really paying attention, the baby does kind of look like him, with a tiny smattering of dark hair that looks soft to the touch. He gives in and brushes his hand softly over the baby’s head, almost jumping out of his fucking skin when the baby makes a snuffling noise.

“Woah,” Patty says and suddenly there are hands underneath his, holding onto the baby.

“I’m not gonna drop him,” Travis says, vaguely outraged.

“Sure,” Patty says easily and doesn’t move his hands away. “So, who’s the mom?”

“No fucking clue,” Travis says flatly. He kind of wants to snatch the baby away from Patty, maybe keep him snuggled to his chest or something, like he’s seen new fathers do with their wishbabies. Part of him wants Patty to move back across the room, putting some distance between him and Travis’ baby. The other part of him wants to grab hold of Patty and beg him not to go and leave him alone with this baby - this human - that Travis is expected to just look after now, like Travis knows anything about babies or how to keep them alive, let alone raise one.

“How the fuck do you not know who the mom is?” Patty asks, keeping his voice low and yet the accusatory tone hits Travis square in the chest anyway. “You have to wish, dumbass. How often are you wishing for a baby if you can’t remember who you wished with?”

“I didn’t fucking wish!” Travis grits out between his teeth.

Patty doesn’t say anything to that. Travis supposes there isn’t much to say, anyway. He didn’t wish for a baby, and Patty either believes him or he doesn’t.

Patty does step back, leaving Travis with the baby and he cuddles him a little closer.

“I need to return him,” Travis murmurs. His hands tighten a little around the baby - he doesn’t even know what his name is, what the fuck - but even he knows he’s not supposed to have a baby right now. That’s something that’s meant to happen when he’s older, when he’s a helluva lot smarter and preferably settled down with someone more responsible than he could ever hope to be. “There’s been some kind of mistake, obviously,” he says miserably.

“Dude,” Patty says softly enough that Travis looks up in alarm. “Bro. I don’t think that’s like, possible? I’ve never heard of a wishbaby being a mistake. Two people wish and they get a baby. That’s like, impossible to fuck up.”

“Well, someone fucked up,” Travis says and glares at Patty when he opens his mouth, clearly ready to suggest who exactly fucked up but one look at Travis seems to make him change his mind because he just sighs and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Travis asks suspiciously as Patty’s thumbs fly across his screen. “You’re not telling the team, right?” Travis can’t see him rolling his eyes, but he knows Patty’s doing it anyway. He’s got his exasperated-with-TK face on.

“I’m ordering you a wish baby starter kit, dumbass,” Patty says when he puts his phone away. “He’s gonna wake up in a minute and you need milk.”

“Check the basket,” Travis says. It’s still by the front door, mostly undisturbed. He’d literally picked the baby up and spent twenty terrifying minutes taking the five steps necessary to get from the front door to where he’s currently sat. He hasn’t moved since.

Patty throws him a look but he pokes at the basket, pulling out two bottles with a tiny amount of milk inside each one, a clean diaper and a soother. Patty holds it up with one raised eyebrow. “I guess they assumed he’d need calming down,” he says dryly. “Definitely your son.”

“Fuck you,” Travis whispers, putting the soother next to him just in case. He’s going to find a million of these in his stall next season. Fuck.

“Alright,” Patty sighs and sits next to him. They both stare at the baby for a while, until Travis’ arm goes dead and he gets shooting pains towards his elbow. “I guess we need to look after him until we sort it out then, if you definitely didn’t wish for a baby.”

“I didn’t,” Travis says. “Wait, you’re going to help?”

“Of course,” Patty says and somehow, without Travis moving an inch, Patty swoops in and takes the baby away from him, leaving Travis feeling weirdly bereft but also so grateful he can move his arms again, no matter how painful it is. “You think I’d let you do this alone?”

“I could,” Travis mutters stubbornly.

And then chaos erupts because the baby wakes up, starts screaming, and both of them go into panic mode. Somehow, Travis finds himself holding the baby again and Patty is helping him guide the bottle teat into the baby’s mouth, which seems impossible because the baby is screaming so hard he’s gone red, but he calms almost immediately when he figures out how to suck, and then blessed silence falls over them again.

“I know you could do it on your own, dickhead,” Patty says. He’s got his hand on the back of the baby’s head and Travis can’t stop staring at how small the baby looks against Patty’s huge palm.

“Cool,” Travis says, because he’s got a weird lump in his throat as he watches the baby sucking his milk down like a champ. Stupid dad hormones. “You’re sticking around though, yeah?”

“I guess,” Patty says nonchalantly. “Got nowhere better to be, I suppose. You got any food?”

Which leads to Patty heading out of the door with a long list on his phone of mostly baby-related things they found on Google. Travis spends five minutes trying to figure out how to burp the baby, silently yelling at all the shitty YouTube videos that don’t help in the slightest because the baby remains totally burp-free. Then he decides to just walk through his condo, bouncing the baby a little on his shoulder.

It clearly works because the baby burps, and then spits up milk all over Travis’ shirt.

“Fu-uh-udge,” Travis says in betrayal, looking over his shoulder at the mess. “Dude. What the hell? I thought we were bros.”

Then the smell hits him and he hastily puts the baby down on the floor and whips his shirt over his head and uses it to wipe up the rest of the mess before he throws it in the vicinity of his laundry hamper. The baby is staring up at him, his legs kicking around, and Travis grabs his phone to take a picture.

Ten minutes later, he’s got over fifty nearly identical photos and three videos that he immediately forwards to Patty.

“When Patty gets back, we’ll figure out diaper changes and maybe a bath,” Travis tells the baby. He can still smell baby vomit. It’s pretty disgusting. Maybe he can grab a shower at some point too.

He might need some more painkillers.

*

“You stink, bro,” Patty tells him when they’re both leaning over his kitchen sink, two pairs of hands desperately holding onto a wriggling, wet, slippery baby.

“Maybe the water’s too cold,” Travis says doubtfully when the baby’s face starts to screw up like he’s revving up for a loud wail.

“The water’s fine,” Patty tells him and dumps some water from a cup over the baby’s head..

Patty knows shit about babies, Travis knows that much for sure. “It’s alright, bro,” he tells the screaming baby. “Patty’s bad at this but he’s all we’ve got.”

“Fuck you,” Patty says cheerfully. “You got him?”

Somehow, they get the baby out of the sink and Patty wraps him up in one of the hand towels that Travis thinks his mom bought when he moved in. He’s never seen it before today.

“Okay, you two just, uh, chill out here and I’ll go shower,” Travis says. He’s backing out of the kitchen before Patty can argue and races for his bathroom. He kind of wants to just get under the spray of water and not move for at least an hour, but that seems kind of unfair to Patty, since he’s helping Travis out and all. He scrubs at his body until he’s certain that the smell of baby vomit is completely gone, washes his hair and then climbs out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist as he listens.

No one’s crying, so that’s good, he thinks. His hair dripping water everywhere, he finds them laying on the sofa, the baby gurgling happily on Patty’s chest. Somehow, Patty’s managed to get a diaper on him.

Travis is beyond impressed.

“Cute,” Travis says, reaching for his phone. He’s already got a million photos and it’s only been a few hours.

“You wanna get dressed first, eh?” Patty says mildly. “Don’t want to scare the baby.”

“He’ll be fine so long as he doesn’t have to see your pasty white dad bod,” Travis shoots back. He brushes the back of his finger gently over the baby’s smooth, soft cheek and grins when the baby tries to lift his head from where he’s snuggling on Patty’s broad shoulder towards his touch. “You okay with Patty for a little while longer, bud?”

Patty looks at him over the baby’s head. “We’re fine,” he says patiently. “Get dressed. And figure out what you’re gonna name him.”

“What? I’m not naming him,” Travis says immediately, backing away. His heart race just spiked and he suddenly feels a little sick. “I’m giving him back, remember?”

Patty looks at him a little incredulously and Travis just books it out of there. He’s not proud of it, since running away isn’t his usual schtick. He hides out in his bedroom, dressing as slowly as he can manage and trying to stop his brain from helpfully coming up with names. If he names the baby, he’ll keep him and Travis cannot keep a goddamn baby.

“Uber Eats?” Travis asks when he finally sucks it up and leaves his bedroom. He scoops the baby up from Patty and drops a sneaky kiss on the baby’s forehead that Patty totally sees but neither of them mention it, thank God.

“I’ll order,” Patty says, taking out his phone. He definitely takes a few photos of Travis and the baby first though, and Travis feels weirdly self-conscious, like he might be holding the baby all wrong and if anyone sees those pictures, they’re going to know he’s a fucking failure.

“Thirty minutes,” Patty says eventually.

“Cool,” Travis says. He’s desperately scrolling through his phone but it’s no fucking use. “Dude, I don’t think I can return him.”

“No kidding,” Patty says dryly. “I told you. They don’t make mistakes.”

“Well they obviously did because I didn’t wish for a goddamn baby,” Travis says, scowling at his phone. He didn’t get any hits when he searched for returning wishbabies and the only thing he’s found is some poster on a forum, asking if his wishbaby could have gotten mixed up with someone else’s. Every single answering post is an emphatic no. “Hey bud,” he says softly to the baby, who’s fast asleep in his arms, dressed in one of the spare onesies Patty had found in the basket. “You wanna hang out here with me and Patty for a while? It’s pretty cool here. We’ve got milk and Mario Kart and Patty’s kind of funny sometimes.”

Patty flips him the bird and turns on the PS4.

He watches Patty play for a bit, just chilling out with the baby and quietly chirping Patty’s terrible Mario skills until the doorbell goes and Patty carries in all the wishbaby starter kit crap. There’s diapers and onesies and booties and creams. There’s a box of Tide pods and liquid detergent, which looks ominous as fuck.

“We need to get a bassinet,” Patty says, holding up some white sheets.

“Can’t he sleep in the basket?” Travis asks. It looks sturdy enough.

“There’s a list of suggestions and bassinet is right at the top,” Patty says, lowering the list and looking at the Moses basket too. “I dunno. Maybe you should call your mom.”

“No fucking way,” Travis says immediately. “She’ll go nuts.”

“Alright,” Patty says easily. But now Travis is thinking about how he’ll have to tell her eventually, and his dad, and that’s a particularly huge shitshow he’s not prepared for. He must be projecting somehow because Patty’s hand drops to his thigh and squeezes gently. “Hey. Calm down. We’ve got this.”

“Sure,” Travis says. They absolutely don’t have this at all, because they don’t even know what the baby’s meant to sleep in but at least Patty’s here with him. “Let’s order a bassinet. He can sleep in the basket until it gets delivered.”

Patty pats his leg like he approves or something, and Travis grins down at the baby. “What do you think, Teeks Junior?”

“Oh my god no,” Patty says, staring at him in horror. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I think Travis Konecny Junior sounds good,” Travis says, enjoying the way Patty’s eyes widen even further. “It’s a solid name.”

Patty starts tapping at his phone furiously. “Absolutely not.”

Travis grins. “Alright, maybe there’s only room for one Travis Konency. What about,” he pauses, humming as he silently runs through names. “Claude.”

“Nope,” Patty says, relaxing just a little as he realizes that Travis is just fucking with him. “Coots is much better.”

Travis wrinkles his nose in disapproval. “Nolan. Nolan Konecny.”

Patty laughs at that. “Patty Konecny.”

“I can’t call him Patty, asshole,” Travis says, rolling his eyes. “What if something happens to me and you have to raise him?”

Patty blinks at him. “What.”

“I mean,” Travis says and bites his bottom lip. “Like. You’re gonna help me, right? You’re not gonna let me raise this dude by myself. That’d be the worst idea ever.”

Patty still looks a bit shell-shocked and Travis is starting to feel a little panicked. He can’t raise this kid alone.

“Bro,” Patty says. His voice sounds a little weird and Travis’ heart rate goes through the fucking roof. “Yeah. I mean, for sure.”

“So uh, let’s choose a bassinet then,” Travis says, leaning into Patty just a little. “Nothing fancy though.”

“I just gotta do something real quick first,” Patty says and calls someone just as the doorbell goes.

He’s got their food laid out when Patty comes back, his cheeks flushed and his fingers shoved into his hair, pushing it back and away from his face.

“All set?” Travis asks. He’s got the baby in one arm, a forkful of noodles in his free hand. He’s got this down like a fucking boss right now.

“Don’t eat all the moo shu,” Patty says, instead of answering and swipes the box out of Travis’ reach.

“Hey!” he protests - quietly, because the baby is still blissfully asleep.

Patty just grins at him.

*

That first night is a fucking disaster. Making bottles up in the middle of the night is a goddamn shitshow - the baby cries, Travis yells at Patty to hurry up while he tries to bounce a clearly hungry baby into thinking he’s not hungry for two minutes and Patty shoves a warm bottle at him with a gritty-eyed glare.

Then the baby needs burping, which Travis is awesome at, followed by a diaper change which he is very much not awesome at - there’s a change of clothes involved for both of them by the end of the entire process - and he gets the baby down to sleep easily enough.

He thinks it’s kind of easy until he wakes up two hours later and they have to do the whole process over again.

“How much does he eat?” Travis hisses at Patty while they’re trying to cool down the bottle.

“Every two to three hours,” Patty says.

“What.”

“I looked it up,” Patty says and hands him the bottle. “While you were changing his diaper last time.”

Travis looks down at the baby, who’s happily sucking on his bottle, his eyes closed and his flushed cheeks calming a little as he drinks, in utter betrayal. “There’s got to be a better way to make bottles,” he says desperately. “Like instant shit or something.”

“I was kind of in a rush last time,” Patty says defensively.

“I’m not judging,” Travis says around a yawn. He might just close his eyes a little while the baby feeds. “You did a great job, buddy.”

*

He wakes up on the couch with a yelp because his arms are empty and fuck, he dropped the baby, he’s the worst parent in the world -

“I’ve got him,” Patty says calmly. He’s got the baby up on his shoulder, there’s a bit of milky drool on his shoulder and the baby looks milk-drunk or something. “You fell asleep mid-sentence.”

“Shit,” Travis curses. “Dude.”

“It’s fine,” Patty tells him. “Apparently he’ll stop feeding so often when he can manage bigger feeds.”

“Parenting is so fucking hard,” Travis says around a yawn. It’s still kind of dark outside. “Come on, let’s go get some sleep while he’s down.”

Between them, they get him into his basket and Travis carries it into his bedroom. Patty looks like he’s going to head back out to the couch so he half-tackles him onto the bed and slaps his hand over Patty’s mouth when he looks like he’s going to protest.

“We both need to sleep while we can,” Travis says wisely. “And don’t wake the baby.”

Patty pulls a face at him but climbs under the covers. It takes them a few minutes to get settled, and even then it feels weird because Travis’ bed is pretty big but he’s never had someone as tall or broad as Patty in his bed before. He accidentally kicks Patty’s leg when he rolls over and mutters an apology into his pillow before tiredness overcomes any awkwardness he’s feeling and he’s fast asleep.

*

Those first few days are a blur. Travis vaguely remembers making bottles and changing diapers and taking a million naps whenever the baby does. It’s exhausting.

And Patty’s there the whole time, shoving Travis into the shower in the mornings and doing half the night feeds and taking the diapers out with the trash when they start to stink out his condo. A bassinet arrives, along with more diapers and baby clothes that look super cute when they dress the baby and somehow, they get through a whole week together, the three of them.

“Hey,” Travis says one morning. He’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other, snapping a few photos of the baby while he stretches out on the floor, reaching for a toy lion that Patty’s dangling in front of him.

Travis doesn’t have a fucking clue where the lion came from.

“Weren’t you meant to fly home this week?” he asks. He’s sure he remembers Patty talking about some plans he had to go fishing with his buddies back home, or something.

Patty looks up and gives him an incredulous look. “Dude.”

Travis stares at him. “Yeah?”

“I cancelled my flight,” Patty says, like he thinks Travis is being stupid and it’s kind of possible that he is because he didn’t expect Patty to like, not go home and see his family and friends. “That first night.”

Travis puts down his mug and frowns. “Dude. You don’t have to stay all summer. You’ve gotta go home.”

“I’ll go home,” Patty assures him. He grins down at the baby when one of his flailing hands connects with the toy. “Hey, good job buddy! Teeks, I’ve got all summer to go home.”

Travis swallows. Then he aims his phone at the two of them again and takes another picture. “Alright,” he says eventually. He feels a little guilty about the fact that he doesn’t feel guilty about Patty staying here to help out.

*

With their season finished and any plans to go to Worlds put firmly on hold, the three of them settle into a routine of sorts. Patty spends most nights on Travis’ couch, no matter how many times Travis tells him to either go home or share his bed - “It’s big enough,” Travis says for what feels like the millionth time. Patty ignores him. For the millionth time - and between them they manage the night feeds and diaper changes and hours and hours of rocking the baby to sleep. They go for walks in the bright orange stroller Patty bought.

*

(“It’s orange,” Travis says when they open the box and stare inside.

“Yeah,” Patty says and grins like the asshole he is. “Flyers baby.”

“That is magnificent,” Travis says breathlessly. “Holy fuck. It’s perfect.”

Travis is almost certain that Patty was hoping Travis would hate it, but he fucking adores it. It’s bright and bold and it genuinely makes him happy when they go out with the baby tucked inside.)

*

Patty walks through the front door with groceries in one hand and a yellow fluffy duck stuffed toy in the other.

“I saw it in a store window,” he mumbles, brushing past Travis without looking at him like he’s embarrassed or something.

Travis watches him crouch down to where the baby is happily kicking his legs, stretched out on a playmat, and shows him the duck.

Travis’ heart is doing something weird, beating in double time for some reason, and then he watches in pure shock as Patty makes a quacking noise. It’s quiet, as most things Patty does are, but distinct nevertheless.

Travis doesn’t make fun of him for it, even when Patty stands up, his cheeks a telltale red, and braces himself for it.

“Sweet gift, bro,” Travis tells him sincerely. The toy is lying next to the baby, one pudgy fist gripping it tightly. “I think he likes it.”

“Yeah,” Patty says wonderingly. “I think he does.”

Travis doesn’t let him sleep on the couch that night. He’s gonna fuck up his back if he doesn’t get proper lumbar support, something Travis tells him with an entirely straight face.

“Alright,” Patty says with a sigh and climbs into the other side of Travis’ bed. “Don’t try and spoon me though. I hate spooning.”

Patty stops sleeping on the couch altogether after. He makes Travis clean his sheets every three days though, which Travis feels is slightly excessive but he’s doing laundry every other day now anyway. Throwing in some sheets doesn’t even make a dent into how many baby clothes he washes anyway.

The baby doesn’t let go of the duck for two days straight. It’s fucking adorable.

His camera roll is getting dangerously full.

*

“Hey baby,” Travis coos, jiggling him around a little in his arms. The baby stares up at him and makes a happy, gurgling sound that makes Travis beam helplessly at him. “Jesus, you’re cute.”

“Must get it from his mom,” Patty says from across the room. He doesn’t look up from his phone but Travis narrows his eyes at him anyway.

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” he says. Patty’s not subtle. He’s been needling Travis for two weeks about the baby’s mom. It doesn’t matter how many times he insists that he didn’t wish for the baby, Patty just keeps on poking at him, nonstop, constantly, and it’s fucking frustrating. It’s like -. “Fuck. You’re being me.”

“I’m - what?”

“Annoying, persistent.” Travis pops the baby up on his shoulder because he’s yawning and rubbing his eyes in that unbelievably cute way he does before he crashes. “I’ve told you already. I didn’t wish for a baby.”

Patty looks pretty annoyed, actually. Travis raises his eyebrows as he stands up and walks towards him and the baby. “Teeks. You have a wishbaby in your arms right now. They don’t make mistakes so you must have wished for him. Somewhere, his mom is completely oblivious to the fact that he even exists while we fuck around here trying to look after him. Don’t you think she deserves to know?”

“She doesn’t exist!” Travis half-yells. “How many times do I have to say it? I didn’t fucking wish! There’s no mom! It’s just me and the baby. Like, sorry we’ve been taking up your precious time with all this fucking around. Feel free to leave anytime, buddy. We’ll be just fine without you.”

Patty’s face goes completely blank, like shutters coming down, and then he turns on his heel and leaves, closing the apartment door quietly behind him.

Travis’ heart is racing, his adrenaline is pumped and he takes a step towards the door. Fuck, he’s fucked up. He’s fucked up so badly. His temper runs cold as quickly as it’d flared, as per fucking usual. But this time he’s probably just pushed his best friend in the whole world away, over something completely dumb.

“Fuck,” he says just as the baby snuffles into his shoulder, completely unaware of how badly his daddy just fucked up.

The apartment is utterly silent, just the two of them standing in the middle of the room. Alone.

Travis tries not to panic.

*

He panics. He panics so hard.

*

By the time the baby is down for the night in his bassinet, Travis is exhausted. He’s got baby vomit on his shoulder, the hem of his shirt is still wet from bath time, and there’s so much washing up to do in the kitchen. And Patty hasn’t texted him at all.

He strips off his shirt, dumps it in the laundry basket - which is overflowing, he doesn’t know how the hell normal parents manage to do laundry on top of everything else, he’s considering throwing all his dirty washing away and just buying all new stuff to replace it - and gets to work.

He falls into bed around half eight. He figures he’s got about two more hours before the baby wakes up for a feed. Patty normally does one of the night feeds but obviously that’s not going to happen.

He really wants to text Patty. Not about the night feeds. He just.

He misses him.

*

Travis grumbles a little when he’s jostled into wakefulness by someone climbing into bed next to him. It takes him a few more minutes of dozing to realize, his eyes snapping open to see Patty in bed next to him, shirtless and his hair falling over his eyes.

“You came back,” he breathes.

“Well, yeah,” Patty says. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

Travis beams at him for a full, silent minute before he throws himself in the general direction of Patty’s chest. Patty’s arms slowly wrap around him and Travis feels a whole load of stress seep out of him all at once. “I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“You are and it’s okay,” Patty tells him. “We’ve been friends for two years, you think I don’t know that you’re an idiot with a hot temper by now?”

“Best friends,” Travis corrects him.

Patty doesn’t say anything for a while, but he also doesn’t shove Travis away so Travis stays exactly where he is because Patty also knows how clingy he can get. “I fed him a few minutes ago.”

“You’re the best,” Travis says gratefully. He’s already got his eyes closed, ready to get some beautiful, blissful sleep now that Patty’s back.

“And he needs a name, bro. You’re choosing one tomorrow and we’re going to register it.”

“Sure bro,” Travis yawns and falls fast asleep to the soothing rise and fall of Patty’s broad, warm chest.

*

Travis wakes up feeling well-rested, which is a completely foreign concept to him these days. Patty’s not in bed with him so he assumes that’s why he feels so great and also why he can’t hear any crying. He yawns, stretches and rolls out of bed to brush his teeth and shower.

He tugs on his last clean shirt - he really needs to do some laundry - and goes in search of his baby.

The baby is lying on the floor, his legs in the air and his arms waving around like he’s trying to grab his own feet. Patty is on the couch, sitting on the side he always sits on, half-asleep. He’s wearing one of Travis’ shirts, which is too small for him and has some milk spit on the shoulder.

Travis stares at him.

“Hey,” Patty yawns. “Morning.”

“Yeah,” Travis says, feeling dazed and a little lightheaded. “Fuck. I might have, uh, accidentally wished.”

Patty blinks at him. “I don’t think they give out babies for accidental wishes.”

“I forgot,” Travis blurts out. “Shit. I just. Yeah. I wished.”

“Yeah?” Patty yawns again and stretches, Travis’ shirt rising dangerously high over his belly.

“Yeah,” Travis says and leans down to kiss him.

It’s fleeting. Just a brush of their lips before Travis pulls back and shakes his head. “You’re a fucking idiot. You’re worse than me at taking care of yourself and you’re a moody, silent asshole but I tied your fucking tie three weeks ago before game like I always, always do because you’re a disaster.” Travis takes a deep, shaky breath. “And maybe I wished.”

It takes a few seconds - Travis gives him a pass because he’s still half-asleep and Travis did just take him by surprise by fuck, kissing him - but Patty’s eyes finally widen in shock. “You wished because of me? Oh my god, you fucking dumbass.”

“I know,” Travis groans. “Like, I know, okay? I was a fucking idiot.”

“No shit,” Patty says, still looking shell-shocked. He’s staring down at the baby, who’s trying unsuccessfully to roll onto his side. And he smiles a tiny, tiny smile. “Teeks. We’ve got to give him a name.”

Travis lets out a silent breath when Patty’s hand closes over his. “What’s wrong with Baby?” he asks.

“We’re not naming our baby Baby, asshole,” Patty says. He’s still staring at the baby. It’s adorable.

“Watch your language in front of our kid,” Travis says with a wicked grin. Their kid. Oh god. They have a kid. Together.

“This poor kid is screwed,” Patty says and stands up. “Please don’t wish for any more babies.”

“Oh fuck off,” Travis says and ignores Patty’s raised eyebrow at his language, like they don’t curse in front of the baby fifty times each a day. “It was an accident.”

Suddenly Patty is crowding in front of him, forcing Travis to take a step back and another until he feels the wall against his back and Patty is all up in his space, big and broad and forcing Travis to tip his head back to look up at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Sorry I wished for your baby,” Travis murmurs. He’s not sorry at all.

“Dude,” Patty says and then he laughs just once, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know how this works, right? I had to wish for it too.”

Travis’ breath catches in his throat. God, he’s so sleep deprived that he’d forgotten all about how wish babies are granted. Both parents have to wish together.

“Oh god, we’re fucking disasters,” Travis groans and threads his fingers through Patty’s terrible bed-hair to tug him down for another kiss. A real one, this time. One where they’re both kissing each other and Patty’s tongue slides into his mouth and Travis pulls Patty’s hair hard enough to feel Patty gasp against his lips.

“Baby,” Patty murmurs as he trails his lips down Travis’ throat.

“Yeah, babe?” Travis is distracted, sliding his hands under Patty’s borrowed shirt.

“No,” Patty laughs and lifts his head. “I meant the baby. That we wished for. Who wishes for a baby before they start a relationship?”

Travis laughs and rests his head on Patty’s shoulder. The one without any baby milk spit-up. “We’ll figure it out.”

He should probably call his mom now and tell her she’s a grandma. And maybe ask if she wants to babysit for a whole weekend while he bangs his new boyfriend-slash-baby daddy between some long, quality naps.

“What do you think about Liam?” he asks. “Liam Patrick-Konecny.”

Patty kind of squashes him against the wall, probably because he’s completely forgotten his own strength. “Liam Konecny-Patrick,” he counters.

Travis isn’t going to point out that his voice totally broke. “Alright,” he says quietly. “Liam Konecny-Patrick.”

“You’re not going to argue with me about it?” Patty asks, sounding surprised.

Travis presses a kiss to Patty’s exposed throat. “Not feeling particularly argumentative right now. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Patty looks down at him and Travis just knows he’s thinking about ways to win arguments now that they’re dating. “Hey, you wanna pick up our son?”

Patty’s face does this immediate shift into something soft and sweet. “Yeah,” he breathes and kisses Travis once, hard and fast. “Yeah. Let me get him.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me [here](https://lovedyouless.tumblr.com/).


End file.
